Around here, lately

The other day, I was working on chores around the house and letting Claire play on our kitchen step ladder. We worked in companionable silence for a while, until Claire turned to me and said, "Mommy, I wuhking laundry." I looked over and saw that she had hung some necklaces and dishtowels over the handle of the step ladder (as if they were freshly washed and drying). That girl loves to help with laundry. (And, no, I don't usually wash necklaces. I think she just found them really drape-y.)

Brad was gone last weekend (for the third weekend in a row: Boston, Dallas wedding, Jackson wedding), leaving Claire and me to our own devices. For me, this involved watching more tv shows (in bed at 8:30) than usual. For Claire, this entailed...ahem...other things.

Last Saturday, I was setting Claire up with my Kindle to watch Curious George while I showered (yes, this is my method: I set the Kindle on the closed toilet seat, set Claire on the bathmat, and I can see everything she does from my glassed-in shower. Coping. That's what it is.) While I was prepping the scene, that little Bear went and LICKED THE TOILET. Licked it. WHAT?? What would possess a creature to do such a thing? It looked like she just wondered what it would be like, tried it, and decided it wasn't for her (you know, after I shrieked and sprayed her down with Lysol). Noro virus, party of one. I'm expecting it any moment now.

Shortly after The Licking Incident, I was drying my hair, thinking that Claire was still peacefully watching George...until she yelled, "Mommy! I wet!" That's how she tells me that she needs a diaper change. Except, this time, she wasn't just wet. She was the "other," and it was smeared all over the front of her pants. HOW?? I start emergency diaper change maneuvers and realize that she didn't have a blowout. <Light begins to dawn> 
Me: "Um, Claire, did you put your hand in your diaper?" 
C: "Yahhhh!"
Me: "Um, did you wipe poop on your pants?"
C: "Yah yah YAH!" 
Me: "Ok, new rule: we DON'T DO THAT."
At least she's honest, I guess.

This past Sunday, I ended up taking Claire to church by myself, since Brad was still out of town. I had no idea how this would play out, as Claire has been unpredictable on Sunday mornings for the past 8ish month. As Sunday was Palm Sunday, we had our palm branches during the service (which she loved), and we said, "Hosanna in the highest!" a lot. Apparently, she really liked this, because she began saying, I mean shouting, "HOSANNA HIGHEST!" at random intervals throughout the service. As in, during quiet moments of prayer or during scripture readings. On top of that, she seemed to feel that the communion liturgy was the appropriate time during which to sing, I mean shout, the alphabet song. No amount of threats could stop her, either. She is a force.

In the spirit of Palm Sunday, as we walked through the parking lot of Costco yesterday, she shouted, "HOSANNA HIGHEST!" to all the cars in the parking lot. Maybe she was thinking that if she didn't praise Him, the rocks, trees, and parking lot full of cars would cry out? 

And, this morning, Claire put on her own shoes. On the correct feet. Such a big girl.

What a week.